Photography Jason A. Chiu

All poutine, all the time: seems like such a brilliant restaurant concept. The Quebecois staple is, after all, a complete meal unto itself. You’ve got your potato doubling as both veggie and starch, and gravy and cheese curds add that protein kick. Not only that, but it’s a dish that — once you have your basics down — is dead simple to assemble. Take fries, toss in cheese, douse with gravy and presto: one tasty mess of artery-clogging goodness. Quick, easy and pretty much fool-proof: a foodstuff tailor-made to star in its own fast-food frenzy show. That’s what I figured, anyway. Then I went to Smoke’s Poutinerie.

Smartly set right above Burrito Boyz in the heart of the Entertainment District, Smoke’s concept remains a winner. Nothing screams, “Eat Me!” to a fellow in the midst of an alcohol-buzz power-down than a brown paper carton filled with grease and salt. It’s this prime location more than anything else that accounts for the joint’s relative success thus far. (They’re getting ready to go 24 hours on the weekends soon.) It has to be that, because it certainly isn’t due to the food they’re serving.

Hand-cut, Yukon Gold fries are OK — slightly limp, not fluffy really, but not necessarily bad either. The signature gravy is certainly signature, in a gloopy, memories-of-the-high-school-cafeteria sort of way. Matched with some fresh Eastern Township cheese curds, both the straight-up traditional ($5.45/$6.95) and veggie version ($5.45/$6.95) — with tasty mushroom gravy — make for a fairly decent nosh. But other than the Hog Town ($6.95/$8.95), which features a whack of caramelized onions, mushrooms, crispy bacon and not-spicy sausage thrown on top, there isn’t much left to even vaguely recommend.

The pulled pork with bacon-and-peppercorn gravy special ($7.45/$9.95) is good for a bite or two before the overt sweetness infused into the toppings becomes cloyingly unpalatable. A small pile of smoked meat ($5.95/$7.95) reminiscent of boil-in-the-bag corned beef from the ’80s would be bad enough on rye, where a big glop of prepared mustard would be welcome accompaniment. I assure you it’s worse when paired with fries, gravy and a wedge of wilted pickle. The Italian ($5.95/$7.95), which gets a ladle full of zesty meat sauce, shows promise. Heck, it could even be good, if they had the culinary presence of mind to leave out the signature gravy. They don’t. Ditto a completely spice-free chili ($5.95/$7.95) option. Beef with either tomatoes or gravy equals yummy. Mashed all together though, it’s not a taste sensation anyone past adolescence should be subjected to in a sober state.

There are other, more adventurous options on Smoke’s carte, like the Nacho Grande ($6.95/$8.95) that comes with sour cream, jalapeño peppers, salsa and ground beef, or curry chicken ($5.95/$7.95). But the half-dozen items we sampled didn’t inspire us to venture further down the menu.

Perhaps it’s just that I’ve been spoiled by the likes of Jamie Kennedy–styled poutine, or maybe it’s just that I made the mistake of not hitting a club or two (and a bottle or six) before visiting. I’ve met a number of otherwise reasonably intelligent people who’ve been bowled over by Smoke’s, after all.

Either way, my assessment may be pretty much beside the point, because I’m pretty sure this joint will be packing them in for years to come. Heck, I’m not a big fan of KFC or McDonald’s, but that hasn’t stopped them from continuing to be wildly popular throughout the city.

This is certainly a step up from microwaveable convenience-store burritos, another after-hours staple. It’s not that the grub is inedible. But with Burrito Banditos and Burrito Boyz both within spitting distance, the question is, “Why would you want to?”